


The Magician, The Painter, and The Abandoned

by hockeyboysandsuch



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Crime AU, Gen, M/M, POV Multiple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-03 04:33:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14560953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hockeyboysandsuch/pseuds/hockeyboysandsuch
Summary: Mat the con man is back in New York after a falling out with Tito, and his former club. Mat wants too back to get what he lost. Tito's been cut off from his parent's money and kicked out of his home, he doesn't know where to go, or what to do. Pierre is alone and needs money desperately.One night they meet in lockup and hatch a plan to get what they want, to get what they deserve.





	The Magician, The Painter, and The Abandoned

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. This is going to be a multi-part fic.

Mat didn’t plan to spend the night in lockup. He was walking down the street, taking in the city he missed so dearly. When a rich jackass on a cell phone bumped into him, offered no apology, went on his way.  
Mat used the opportunity to take the guys wallet. Mat wasn’t picking pockets a lot, he liked to think he was above it, but that man was just asking for it.  
Mat was walking down a side street when the rich assholes fist collided with his stomach.  
Now, a cop who reeked of cigarettes and coffee was pushing him in handcuffs, towards what could be one of the worst night of his life. He’d had many horrible nights, but life tended to only get worse for Mat.  
He was used to talking his way out of anything, but the older cop who brought him in wasn’t having it. He didn’t come back to this city to get arrested, he came to take back to get what he deserved. The magician was back in the city, and already in a jail cell.  
\---------------

Gloria and Ryan Beauvillier had kicked out there only child, a few weeks before. After Tito got in a fight at a bar, the other guy had to get stitches. His parents cleaned up the mess for him up.  
They’d sat him down on the couch, his father was dressed to go golfing, and he knew his mother had a charity event to go too. They informed him that the fight was the last straw. Tito needed to pack a suitcase and find somewhere else to stay. He was cut off. They told him one of the most devasting news of his life and rushed off to where they needed to be, like telling there son he was all alone, homeless, and penniless, was small inconvenience before they got back to there glamorous lives.  
“I miss my sweet boy,” Gloria said before she patted Tito on the shoulder.  
His parents had given him warnings before, but he’d laughed them off.  
Now it was one in the morning on a Saturday night, and Tito was crying in lockup. Still a bit drunk from before, he couldn’t stop the hot tears from rolling down his face. He’d hit a new low, he didn’t think he’d be able to come back from this. One of the policemen had given him a room temp water bottle, and some cheap crackers and Tito had chugged the water and devoured the crackers, but he still felt empty. The cell smelled like sweat and piss, and Tito felt like he couldn’t breathe.  
His parents weren’t going to bail him out this time. He sighed and leaned back on the bench. He’d fucked up big time. Tito tried to forget the memories that swirlie around his mind, how it all went wrong, the boy who lied to him and cut out his heart.  
The door opened, and another man was brought into the lockup. Tito shifted so they couldn’t see his face. He didn’t want anyone to know he was crying. He didn’t want anyone to think he was an easy target. It was just overnight, but he wanted to be safe.  
He was on his parent’s mansions lawn, banging on the gate. “Please let me back!” He cried, a whisky bottle in his hand. He took a stone and tried to break the gates lock.  
Light flicker behind him and a siren wailed. Tito keeled over in front of his former home, crying.  
His mother came outside speak with the police officer. “I don’t want this getting out,” Gloria sighed.  
The officer and Gloria exchanged a few more words that Tito couldn’t make out, and then he was pushed into the back of a cop car.  
Tito took a break, he couldn’t cry anymore. The man shuffled to the corner and sat down. Tito wiped his eyes and leaned over to get a better look at him.  
He was huge, with red hair, a scruffy beard and sporting a nasty black eye. He had one of those faces that made it hard to tell how old he was. Tito was guessing between twenty to twenty-five.  
The man glared back at him. “What?”  
Tito looked away, “Nothing, sorry.”  
Another man was brought in, Tito’s heart dropped. He hadn’t seen that face in over a year.  
There was no way he could spend an entire night locked up with him. He fought back tears, resisting the urge to cry again. All the memories came rushing back and Tito tried to fight them off. He didn’t think he’d see Mat again, Mat had told him so.  
He looked as gorgeous as ever. His brown hair was longer, and he was a bit skinnier than before.  
Tito didn’t think he would see the boy who ruined his life again.  
\-------------

Mat locked eyes with Tito and grinned. It was funny how life worked itself out. Of course, he’d be brought back to the boy that ruined his life.  
Anthony Beauvillier, a rich brat who got everything, or that was how the captain painted him. Mat still hadn’t made up his mind, or that’s what he liked to tell himself. That when it all went down, he’d made the right choice  
Mat smiled at Tito and took a seat by the door. Tito shifted, turning his body as far away from Mat as he possibly could.  
Mat drummed his fingers on his knee, he needed a plan to get out of lockup before the sun rose. There was no way he could stay there all night. He had too much to do.  
“Can you stop?” The other man growled. Mat hadn’t noticed him at first, he was too focused on Tito.  
Mat stopped for a second and then started again. A plan was forming in his mind. He observed the man, his back was to Mat, but something about him was familiar.  
The man flipped over and jumped up, his fist clenched at his sides. “Stop.”  
Mat grinned. “Nope.”  
The man rushed forward and stopped in front of Mat’s. Mat figured he’d have to take at least one hit, to make it seem like he was the victim.  
“Can you please stop?” The man asked again, staring into Mat’s eyes.  
Mat cracked a smile. “No, thank you.”  
The man grabbed Mat’s shirt, pulling him up out of his chair.  
The man sighed and put him down. “I’m not going to punch you.” He said almost to himself.  
“What? Hulk no smash?” Mat cackled.  
He heard a giggle and looked over to Tito. He was smiling at him, Mat always knew how to make him laugh. He’d missed it.  
Tito looked away. Mat drew his attention back to the man in front of him.  
The large man was glaring at him and then he broke out into a husky laugh. He walked back over to his seat and sat down. “You’re a funny one.”  
Mat frowned. None of that went how he planned. He needed to get punched, then someone would have to take him out of lockup to look at him. He could please his case, maybe another set of ears would believe him.  
Mat slumped back in his seat and closed his eyes. It was going to be a long night. He doubted Tito would talk to him.  
“The rat’s back in the city,” The man said.  
Mat opened his eyes. “Actually, I go by the magician,” Mat said, confidently. “You’ve heard of me?”  
The wheels were churning in his mind, he had to know this guy from somewhere. How did Mat not recognize him earlier, had he really been away from the city for that long?  
The man yawned. “I used to work for the blue jackets.”  
It was the beard that confused him, and after not seeing him for a year, the boy had grown up. He was eighteen of the blue jackets, a gang in Brooklyn. Mat had seen him a few times before, but only in dim lighting. His real name was Pierre, Mat had no idea why people called him eighteen.  
“Pierre,” Mat said, a smile spread across his face.  
“Yeah dude, people call you’re the rat,” Pierre laughed. Tito joined in.  
Mat rolled his eyes. People wouldn’t call him rat soon enough.  
“What are you in for?” Pierre asked.  
Mat didn’t want to admit it was for something as low as pickpocketing. “It’s not relevant to your life, why do you need to know?”  
Pierre raised an eyebrow. “Just curious. What about you then?” Pierre asked Tito.  
Mat followed Pierre’s gaze, he wanted to know too. Tito was a golden boy as far as he knew. A sweet son, who did nothing wrong.  
“Mines not important either,” Tito mumbled.  
“I got into a fight,” Pierre shrugged. “That’s what you get when you try to leave a gang.”  
“You’ve left the blue jackets?” Mat asked.  
“It’s not relevant to your life,” Pierre grinned, showing off a chipped tooth.  
Mat hadn’t heard that Pierre had left the blue jackets. Mat couldn’t go back to his old sources, they wouldn’t talk to him. Leaving him out of the loop, which was dangerous. “You just left the blue jackets?” Mat asked again.  
“I’m freelance now,” Pierre said. He stretched and scratched his neck. “I thought you weren’t allowed back in the city.”  
“What was he banned by the mayor?” Tito asked, he gave a hurt look to Mat and looked away.  
“No,” Mat said. He wished Tito would meet his eyes.  
“It might of well have been,” Pierre said.  
“That was in the past,” Mat said, he started fiddling with the bracelet on his wrist. A nervous habit that he couldn’t seem to quit.  
“A lot of things are in the past,” Tito mumbled, glaring at Mat.  
Pierre leaned forward, “Do you two know each other?”  
Mat didn’t respond, he looked to Tito. Tito was now starring at the wall, pouting.  
“We did,” Mat said. “Things are different now.”  
“A lot different,” Tito spat.  
“Do you have something to say?” Mat asked.  
Tito wouldn’t look at him. Mat was tempted to get up and sit next to him.  
Mat wished he would just say anything, beyond little insults. Mat wanted to know how he was, why was he even here?  
“I don’t want to speak with a liar,” Tito said.  
Well, Mat didn’t want him to say something like that. He chewed his lip and tapped his foot. He needed to get out.  
There wasn’t anything he thought he could say to make Tito forgive him. He’d thought of it every night, how he was going to come back to New York. How he was going to make Tito forgive him.  
Mat used to indulge in a daydream, where he was the king of New York, Tito forgave him, they went back to how they were before Mat fucked up before he left.  
“And that’s why people call you the rat,” Pierre said.  
Mat scoffed. “What? Cause I lied? Like you tell the truth all the time you goon.”  
Pierre laughed. “I didn’t tell the police about my former crew.”  
Mat looked down at his hands. Another mistake that he couldn’t atone. He looked to Tito. “I thought I did it for the right reasons.”  
\------

Tito could feel Mat’s gaze burning a hole in him. He’d felt trapped. It was a common feeling for Tito. He often felt trapped in his parent’s life that way they lived, later he felt trapped and alone with nothing. Tito couldn’t hold the tears in anymore, he jumped up and glared at Mat.  
“My parents kicked me out!” Tito yelled. “They cut me off, I don’t have anything now, thanks to you.”  
“I didn’t do that to you,” Mat scoffed. “You made your own decisions have some fucking accountability.”  
Tito collapsed back onto the bench and dropped his head into his heads, sobbing.  
Pierre looked extremely uncomfortable.  
“I have nothing,” Tito cried.  
“I’m in the same boat,” Mat mumbled, though it looked like it pained him to admit it. He kept on playing with his bracelet, something Tito knew that Mat did when he was nervous.  
“Same,” Pierre sighed.  
“Do you really have nothing?” Mat asked he seemed a bit surprised.  
“They said I was a disappointment!” Tito yelled.  
Pierre got up and sat next to Tito. “Let it out, man. Let it all out,” He said while patting his back.  
“They should really have tissues in here,” Tito mumbled. He looked back to Mat, he was resting his head on his hand. Tito could almost see the wheels turning in Mat’s head. “Thinking face,” he observed.  
“What?” Pierre asked.  
“He’s hatching some sort of scheme,” Tito whispered. “Probably more lies to spew.”  
Tito let out another choked sob, and Pierre patted his back.

\------

Pierre had no idea what was going on, but he was having fun.  
His eye hurt, and he was starving. All the lights were too bright, he wanted to be back at his apartment. He had almost finished a new painting, before and he needed to feed his cat.  
Zach jumped him in a side alley. Pierre should have been expecting it, but he’d gotten lazy over the last few weeks.  
Zach punched him and kneed Pierre in the gut. “Fuck you.” He shoved him to the ground.  
“Zach,” Pierre groaned. “Come on.”  
He kicked him in the gut, and Pierre coughed.  
“You have a debt to pay,” Zach reminded him.  
“I know,” Pierre said.  
“You’re running out of time,” Zach said, he leaned forward and spit in Pierre’s face.  
He left Pierre in the alley. Pierre pushed himself up and coughed again. He didn’t have the money. The only way to get out of the blue jackets was to buy your way out. Pierre had talked to Tortz and told him that crime wasn’t for him. He didn’t want to go down the road he was on. Tortz laughed, told Pierre he could leave, but he had six months to give him fifty thousand dollars. That was how much Pierre was worth, according to Tortz.  
Pierre took the deal, got a shabby apartment in the cheapest part of Brooklyn. He found a stray cat in a dumpster and brought him home. Pierre didn’t have much of a plan, he knew he wanted to go to college, and that was about it. He didn’t know how he was going to get the money. He didn’t want to do anything illegal.  
After getting attacked by Zach, Pierre went to a bar. A guy bumped into him, things escalated, and Pierre was in lockup. Funnily enough, the first time Pierre was arrested was after he left a gang.  
He patted Tito again, who had almost stopped crying. He yawned again.  
\-----------------  
A plan was forming In Mat’s mind. Several hours had gone by Tito was now sleeping on Pierre’s shoulder. Pierre was snoring softly.  
Mat kept coming to Tito saying his family was a disappointment. How could they say that to him? Mat didn’t know exactly what Tito did, but Mat knew that Tito could never be a disappointment.  
He checked his watch, they’d be let out soon.  
Mat got up and sat down next to Tito. “Wake up.”  
Tito’s eyes fluttered open. “What?”  
“How could your family do that to you?” Mat asked.  
Tito sniffled. “I don’t know.”  
Mat lowered his voice to a whisper. “What if there was a way to get some payback?”  
“Fuck off, Mat,” Tito snipped.  
“I’m serious,” Mat said. “I owe you, I want to help you.”  
Something flickered in Tito’s eyes. “I don’t know if I trust you.”  
“I know, but just hear me out,” Mat said. “Let’s go to Barnes dinner after this, we can talk there.”  
“I’m in,” Pierre said, his eye’s snapping open.  
Tito jumped. Mat cackled.  
“Who said you were invited?” Mat asked.  
“I have skills you might need,” Pierre said. “And I’m starving.” He rolled his shoulders back and yawned. “We're talking a job, right?”  
Mat studied him. He’d heard good things about Pierre before, that he was a solid guy, worked hard, had a bite to him. “You can come, but you can’t call me the rat again.”  
Pierre laughed. “Fine.”  
Tito’s face was drawn. “I don’t want to go anywhere with you.”  
“Just hear me out,” Mat pleaded. He looked into Tito’s eyes, Tito didn’t look away this time. Which Mat took as a good sign.  
“I won’t let you down again,” Mat whispered.  
Tito frowned, Mat was worried he was going to sob again.  
“Promise?” Tito asked.  
Mat nodded. “I promise.”  
“I’m in,” Tito said.


End file.
